A Plan To Rescue A Rider
by timidly
Summary: Arya's POV. Arya goes on a mission to save Eragon after he is captured. She discovers her true feelings for him. One-shot. Please review!


Arya's Point Of View

Arya sat beside Nasuada, struggling to stay in her seat. Eragon was gone. He was captured in Morzan's dungeon, most likely being tortured at this very moment. They had to do something, to come up with some plan to get him out, but what? The spells Morzan had cast around the dark palace where still active. She felt so terrible. She knew exactly what it was like to be tortured. It was the most helpless, the most horrific and painful experience she had gone through. That and losing her guards, Faolin and Glenwing.

She would have been calmer about this before, but now that her and Eragon had developed a close friendship it was devastating. He also was our only chance of bringing down Galbatorix and his vice plans for the future of Alagaësia. The most irritating concept about this was that even though Nasuada and Eragon were friends, and Eragon was her leigelord, Nasuada seemed infuriatingly calm about the matter. Saphira had stayed behind, trying to break into the castle. Nasuada had offered for me or one of Eragon's guards to ride with her on back, but she had refused.

Nasuada, King Orrin, me and their closest associates sat in her large, ruby red command tent devising a plan to rescue Eragon from a fate she knew so well and did not want for him. Unless Eragon could somehow escape on his own - which was doubtful after having been tortured herself - they had to think of something clever, and quick.

Arya and Eragon's twelve guards silently weaved their way through the tunnels of Morzan's dungeon. They had figured out a way into the castle. Arya had told Nasuada that her accompanying them was not necessary. As they quickly searched down all the hallways and in all the cells, they came upon a bony women sitting on the cot in her cell. Her lank hair hung in front of her face, hiding her eyes. Her frail hands clenched the edge of her cot as tight as they could, the knuckles turning white. She turned her head in their direction, hair swaying lifelessly. "Who are you searching for, elves?" she whispered.

"Eragon Shadeslayer." The woman said nothing. "Brown hair, brown eyes. He looks like an elf also…" added Arya. The woman nodded and pointed to the right.

"Go down that way and to the left."

"Thank you", Arya said.

Arya and the other elves hurried down the hall and took a left. Five cells down, they found him. He was hanging by manacles in a corner, soaked in blood that dripped off and seeped to the middle of the stone floor where it was slightly lower.

"You can go now," Arya announced to the elves, "I can take him."

"Arya Dröttningu, we will not –" Blödhgarm began.

"I know your duty is to protect Eragon, but as your princess I order you to leave. I can handle it." Blödhgarm hesitated but said nothing.

"Go."

When the twelve spellcasters had left, Arya rushed over to Eragon. He was asleep, or unconscious. She unshackled him and examined his injuries. Slashes and burns covered every inch of his body. He was so close to death, she had to try to heal the worst of the wounds now. She concentrated her magic on the most fatal ones, and left the others for the Varden's healers. They did not have the time for healing everything right now. They needed to get away from this cursed castle before Murtagh and Thorn made an appearance. After several minutes, she let go of the magic and felt the energy drain from her body.

Eragon had still not woken up. Slowly, and not really knowing why, she reached out and grasped Eragon's hand. She cupped it in hers, and sat there for awhile holding his scabbed hand in hers. She sighed. Eragon had always assumed that, because of her many rejections, she did not care about him. That wasn't true. She cared about his welfare. She cared about his opinion. She cared about his health. She cared about his friendship. She let go of his hand and stared at his face. She had to admit to herself that he was handsome, for someone born human, even if his face was stained with blood and scars.

She wished he would open his eyes so she could see his warm, brown eyes again. She stopped the thought. He was so young, and she was old. He didn't act his age though, he was very mature, the result of having gone through so much and his life completely changing in less than a month. He had been such a great friend to her, something she didn't deserve. Before she even knew what she was doing, she leaned forward and brushed her lips with his. She didn't care if they were dry and bloodied. She kissed him more than once, than she pulled away. She looked down at her hands. Did she just _kiss_ him? _Why_? She did not feel that way about Eragon. He was a friend. Just a friend.

She glanced back up at his face again, and was startled to find him staring at her. His brown eyes now tired and frightened, but also shocked that she was sitting in front of him, and confused at what had just happened. She was confused, too. She looked down at her hands again, feeling her face grow hot. She couldn't look up now, not with him staring at her like a toddler who just got his toy taken away. She was also embarrassed of course, she didn't know what had came over her to make her do that. She usually had a lot of self control.

She felt a hand lightly touch her chin. She tore her gaze from her hands and looked up. Eragon had done the best he could to sit up. She helped him into a more comfortable position, keeping her gaze away from his eyes the whole time. Right as she was about to draw away, Eragon pulled her forward into a weak embrace. He gently pushed her chin up with his finger and their eyes met. He said nothing, but their lips met again and this time he was kissing her back.


End file.
